The Surrogate Namek
by EikoWest
Summary: Nail & Dende want a child with their combined genetic attributes that only a hermaphroditic Namek can conceive and birth. When Piccolo appears, they know they've found the perfect surrogate Namek and will do whatever it takes to get what they desire. But they aren't the only ones who desire the same thing… and the same Namek. NaiDenP/PirinaSaonelP/HanP (NSFW! Full Warnings Inside.)


**Warnings/Tags: **Character Death, Flangst Without Plot, Suicidal Tendencies, Drop of Lime, Canon-Inspired Headcanons, Friendship, Implied Romance, Modern Gothic Romance (Sort of), Non-Hentai Tentacle Monster, Animal Empathy, Happy Hatchday Piccolo-san!, 飯Ｐ

**Disclaimer:** **Dragon Ball**/**Z**/**GT**/**Xenoverse**/**Super**/etc. belong to their respective owners. I own nothing except this derivative fanwork which I do not profit from.

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Story #199:

**"The Shape of Suicidal"**

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_Where heaven deigns to meet us, death lurks close by…_

**-x-**

His beloved mentor often pondered the underlying implication that he could possibly be subliminally infatuated—to an obsessive degree—with self-destruction.

Son Gohan Jr liked to think that he was simply "infatuated". He did not know if it qualified as such; but he was most contented thinking of it that way, thus, in his mind, it was impossible to label as anything else.

…

The six-star dragon ball rested at the very bottom of the ocean on the other side of the planet, as evidenced by the blipping and bleeping from the device in his hands. He zeroed in on the location with ease, and it should have been just as easy a dive… _if not for the deep-sea monster skulking within the underwater cave guarding the treasure he was after, which happened to be nestled conveniently atop a sizable clutch of unborn hatchlings._

Of course, Son Gohan being Son Gohan, a true-blue nature-lover and golden-hearted soul– he would not resort to taking whatever he needed by force right away. And so, Gohan being Gohan, stood his ground a firm but humble distance, and attempted to explain to the creature that the glowing orange ball was not one of its unborn babies. Head lowered, he gave his sincerest apologies for bothering it in its abode, and gently implored that he had a dire purpose for the said object, ending his speech with a promise to leave in peace the moment he had obtained it.

Being an animal empath—among others—was one of his hidden talents; more often than not, one that worked to his advantage. However, now was proving to be not at all like often. Being submerged in inky blackness tens of thousands of feet below the earth's surface cramped his excellent creature communication skills. Plus, it was actually his first time using it on a hormonal parent-to-be, half-alien colossal squid that perceived anything and everything as a grave threat, and was ferociously overprotective of its eggs. Notwithstanding, Gohan still managed to superbly utilize a type of sign language that he himself had devised for such occasions that he needed to speak "creature", and it did, in fact, get his message across all things considered. If the monster was even willing at all to listen, it might have even been impressed. Unfortunately, it couldn't care less about negotiations. All it chose to understand was that there was an unwelcome intruder invading its nest and wanting to steal one of its babies.

Gohan could sense its hostility, but he took a daring gamble anyway since he didn't have much of a choice and time was against him. The formidable beast of the sea attacked as soon as the half-breed teenager from a no less than formidable alien race took one small step closer…

It could have been a fair fight. If the demi-Saiyajin was willing to harm an innocent creature for personal gain; if he did not need to continually focus a substantial amount of concentration and Ki to regulate his oxygen consumption and maintain a makeshift diving bell "suit" on his body to protect it from being crushed by the underwater pressure.

One of the monster's massive tentacles had Gohan's throat in a death grip the moment his hands were within a hair's breadth of the dragon ball. As a last ditch effort, he decided that he would attempt to snatch it as quickly as possible before his mammoth of an opponent could get its many hands on him.

But it quickly proved to be a fatal miscalculation of the monster's speed and strength. More and more tentacles swiftly grabbed onto more parts of him—until he could barely flail or even scream. The slimy appendages climbed up and gathered around his wrists and ankles, and squeezed– clearly preparing to tear him apart limb from limb…!

Winding up violently dismembered or crushed alive wasn't what Gohan was particularly worried about, truth be told. It was more of being able to resist the coming pull as much as he could without compromising his already low oxygen supply or crucial force field. While he could ascend to Super Saiyajin for a quick power-up to easily break free if he really wanted to, he did not want to wound the beast or aggravate it further by fighting back. He wasn't some villain who did not care about what means he used to achieve his ends or how many innocent casualties and collateral damage he left in the wake of gathering the dragon balls.

And his vow was harshly being put to the test as the pressure of the sea monster's hold increased alarmingly. It constricted around his chest and forced bubbles from his nose and lips the same time his arms and legs were towed away from his body in all directions at once. He inwardly screeched from the pain, but he fought to stay in control or he would lose oxygen quicker; one slip in his concentration and his Ki would shatter, leaving his body vulnerable to forces that he was powerless against.

_J-just… a little… more! _Gohan grimaced, determined to outlast the punishment hoping that his lack of resistance would show the creature that he was no aggressor. He almost laughed out loud. Perhaps he was a masochist, perhaps he simply wasn't afraid to tempt fate… Or maybe sometimes, he was just desperate…

Desperately infatuated with death because being close to the brink of dying always brought him the closest to heaven…

The tentacles finally relented one by one, and Gohan's muscles relaxed in relief. _He had succeeded!_

But then, he realized the very next moment that he may have succeeded too well. Though the alien squid did indeed release him because it knew that he was no longer a threat, the price of his gamble was costly. He had blacked-out if only for a split-second – and that split-second was all it took… His Ki had faltered and already, dark fluid was seeping from his mouth, ears, nostrils, and from too many places inside him to count—coming back in control in the nick of time, with sparsely enough time to stop the necrosis from reaching his vital organs.

A weightlessness and yet ponderousness altogether had now gripped his body all of a sudden. His fingers around the dragon ball which he had gotten hold of at some point were slipping; but now, he wasn't even sure if he still had it in his possession because his hands, much like the rest of him, had gone numb and he wouldn't be too surprised if hallucinations were upon him as well. He was pretty damn sure he was already dead—_how could he not yet be?_

A smile formed on his lips in spite of himself as his lifeless body began to drift. He had finally gathered the last dragon ball he needed but it seemed that he would not even be alive enough to use it… Such was the irony of his little quest—of life itself. If he had any regrets at all thus far—about the risks he chose to take, they were curiously absent then…

He knew his sanguine state of mind was grossly misplaced and quite possibly delirium in disguise—but he couldn't help it. He _was_, oddly enough, _happy_; as a child would anticipate opening presents he knew he would like. After so many near-death experiences, he had grown accustomed to the unique astral euphoria that came with it—truthfully, even somewhat addicted to it – nonetheless, he was confident that he was not suicidal (at least, not in your textbook sense)… Gohan imagined he just had a very unconventional view on dying…

The curiousest of all ironies was that he felt oddly safe in the pocket of timelessness and spacelessness he was in; knowing that the light beyond that shimmered and sparkled in deafening muteness trickling in kaleidoscopic slivers along the very edges of his eyelashes– _was heaven_, waiting for him.

In reality, it wasn't difficult at all. _To die._

…

It was all really just a matter of what, to each one, death signified.

…

After the pain, all Gohan needed to do was surrender to that light, and be set free. And so, when the time came for him to close his eyes with a finality for he could no longer find the strength of body to keep them open for even a millimetre of a second longer, his mind easily relinquished and so followed the rest of him…

His arms floated up in front and away from him, as if preparing him for death's embrace…

_A lifetime ago… A memory. In the barren wastelands of his childhood… Escaping the brutal forest beyond and forced to brave the enraged seas… Alone on his man-made raft with the storm's wrath beating mercilessly on his sails… Tossed into the rapacious waters only too eager to swallow him whole… What little of his life that he had lived then flashed before his eyes… _

Yet he remembered nothing of dying when he woke up… Only pieces of heaven beyond his fleeting subconscious: _of supple wet lips, silent entreaties of touch, and quenching breaths flooding his parched throat. _The hot breath of life that melted the icy death from his chest to be replaced by the warmth of his soul being rekindled…

The feeling was back again. Just as he had felt many times every first time he struggled to open his eyes…

…

_Each time his guardian demon pulled him back from death… _

_…_

The white cape and blue eyes of an angel; _heaven in his midst._

_"P- Piccolo-san…!"_

It was meant to be an exclamation of jubilance that came out hardly an utterance—breathless and inaudible.

But he knew that he did not actually have to speak to be heard…

…

_Not to the one being who was tuned in to the frequency of his soul…_

…

"If you keep doing that, one of these days, I won't be there to rescue you."

The weak smile on the half-breed's face broadened.

"When that day comes… I'd be very glad to never come back to life…"

Piccolo Daimaoh Jr didn't move from where he was squatted, meditating with his back turned to him; but his shoulders heaved in a subtle scoff.

Gohan knew he did not have to cry for help—did not have to say a word, not to the one being who could hear his heartbeat… This man who listened to it incessantly, above all other heartbeats, be it thousands of miles away; and knew exactly whenever it was happy, sad, angry, or about to stop…

He knew that Piccolo knew he knew this. This is how Gohan knew.

Piccolo would _always_ save him. For as long as Piccolo had breath in him; as long as Piccolo's ears could listen; as long as Piccolo's own heart pumped blood through his veins…

_Always._ At that very last moment, just before Gohan could touch the blinding light at the end of that proverbial dark tunnel… And then…

…

_Heaven._

…

"I don't understand why you do that, you could have easily broken free," Piccolo muttered, still without looking. "What is up with you and dying? Do you really love to die that much?"

When no immediate response came, Piccolo shook his head in resignation and stood up, intending to leave.

"It's not death that I love that much, Piccolo-san…"

Piccolo halted; stayed still for what seemed like time holding its breath. Gohan's heartbeat escalated, with the surge of fear and hope, of longing and love. It pounded so hard and so loud, in the only way it ever did whenever he was before the one being he cherished most of all. It pounded with a ferocity of all the feelings and raw emotion of a love he could never verbally express. And he knew…

He knew Piccolo could hear everything of it. _Every single time._

Finally, his mentor turned and regarded him just as he had managed to haul his battered body to a sitting position. Bright stars exploded in his vision as his back was sent smashing back down against the rocky ground; his dazed mind registered only seconds later that Piccolo's fist had burst open his cheek and blood was in his tongue. He blinked his eyes open after a while to find Piccolo still there, staring at him. Hard. His dearest friend was once again, trying to discern, if it was normal Earthling behaviour he was exhibiting – he could tell as much. And he almost laughed aloud at how adorable his friend looked in all his splendid confusion but thought better of it since it would somewhat be ill-timed.

Instead, Gohan gazed up a those lost albeit intelligent deep blue eyes with a fondness and ache that he—for the life of him—could not stop. And he may not have super hearing or telepathy, but he somehow knew, what Piccolo felt. That it was indeed unadulterated albeit conflicted redamancy, but Piccolo being Piccolo, did not know what to do about it, let alone convey it.

And so, with painstaking deliberation, he brought his bloody lips to the very edge of purple-stained emerald ones, pressing into it with fragile tenderness. Piccolo's eyes fluttered shut; a soft sigh escaping his slightly parted lips…

Not far away, the newly added six-star dragon ball rolled out of the satchel that lay on the ground, gently pulsing with an otherworldly glow among its brethren, waiting to fulfil whatever impossible wishes the eternal dragon's summoner desired—

And for a long time– went woefully unnoticed.

**The End.**

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(2018/03/09-2018/05/08)


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